


Ocean of Air

by Sismyn



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst, Lost Decade, M/M, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-05
Updated: 2019-11-05
Packaged: 2021-01-23 07:43:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21316627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sismyn/pseuds/Sismyn
Summary: Alex hasn't seen Michael in five years to the day, but he still can't stop thinking about him
Relationships: Michael Guerin/Alex Manes
Comments: 11
Kudos: 41





	Ocean of Air

**Author's Note:**

> You can thank The Bravery song The Ocean (title source) for this depressing mess and also that short Michael fic written by spaceskam based on the Lemony Snicket quote, [here](https://michael-runs-hot-guerin.tumblr.com/post/188806860104/inspired-by-this-post-maria-eyed-michael-guerin-as) is the link to that post, and the song is also in it (:

Alex took a weekend trip to Cardiff for nerd reasons; he hoped the two and a half hour drive from Croughton spent thinking about Torchwood would distract him from his other thoughts. 

Lately one Michael Guerin had been on his mind far more than could possibly be healthy. It was five years to the day since he'd last seen him, when he'd gotten some leave. He replayed the happy memories whenever he could, but there was a stained quality to them. He knew what came next in each one. His father, their argument. 

He didn't want to forget, lose the sharpness or the giddiness, but it was getting harder to hold onto him between their old shared trauma and all his shiny new trauma. He needed something else.

In Cardiff, Alex found the sculpture used as the entrance for the main base on the show, but he headed instead to the river overlook and watched the sea. 

Distracting himself wasn't working, as it turned out. His melancholy was like a second skin that Alex couldn't get rid of. He dropped his forehead to the railing and tried to hold himself in. 

There was the ocean, and there were years and years, and there was so much pain between them now. 

Alex was shaking from the effort.

He looked out at the water and gave himself a few minutes to imagine if he'd stayed in Roswell, if he hadn't felt like he needed to run for their lives halfway around the world. Maybe he could have learned to fight from there. Maybe he could have protected him there, or they could have moved away, or--

Or his dad could have murdered them both. 

That wasn't helping, that just made him feel worse. If anyone asked, his face was wet from the mist. Still, getting it all out was making him feel slightly better. Or numb, at least, instead of like he was missing pieces. 

He wondered if Michael still thought about him. He had terrible scars on his hand, his knuckles and joints had healed wrong, so he must do. God, he probably hated Alex, and he had every right. 

Ah, that also was not a helpful line of thought.

Maybe it would have been better if they'd never met, never come together like stars colliding. At least Michael would still be whole. 

That hurt to think, too, even if it was true. To not have him -- but not have him in pain... That'd be better, right?

Right?

So -- So it was better, right, that they didn't write or call or visit anymore, so that Alex didn't dredge up old pain, or put him in more danger. Yeah. Better.

He hoped Michael wasn't dealing with it alone like him. Hell, hopefully he didn't have to deal with it at all, he hoped he was a distant memory and Michael was well-adjusted and doing something amazing with his life.

Did everything hurt, or what?

Alex wasn't alone, exactly; he did have friends. He was far from the only queer person on base. They were somehow all friends. A few of them even knew about the beautiful boy back in Roswell, the amazing kisser with a smile like sunshine, but he couldn't talk about what had happened after in case it got back to his father and he got accused of defamation or something. 

Alex wasn't sure how long he stared out at the water. Long enough for his face to dry. Long enough for the sky to darken. Long enough for the waves to stop sounding like Michael laughing with him in the shed. Long enough that his thoughts weren't oscillating between "why did I leave" and his very logical reasons and "I love him, I love him, I love him, why do I still love him?"

Eventually, Alex made his way back to his hotel. He could do the tourist things he wanted to do the next day. Maybe he wouldn't think about Michael as much.

But he doubted it.


End file.
